The Dragon and the Otter
by alisajudd
Summary: After Ron causes a separation that lands Hermione and Draco in hiding together, they must work with each other to find contact with the others, figure out the Horcruxes - and stay alive. But it's harder than it sounds; they're being hunted down with a vengeance. Set during book 7.
1. Chapter 1

"Harry, did you hear that?"

"Stay back, Hermione!"

Hermione Granger was panicking. As clever as she was, she was prone to losing her head in these kind of situations. Clutching her wand tightly in her hand, she pointed it forwards to reassure herself.

"Who's there?" she called, taking tentative steps forward towards the edge of the tent.

"Hermione, I said stay back! I'll go," Harry hissed, but Hermione waved him off.

"I can do this, you know," she whispered back.

It was a quarter past midnight, and Hermione had been on the night watch at the edge of the tent. Just as she had gone inside to wake Harry for his shift, they heard a ruckus outside of the tent and were on high alert.

Somewhere deep in the Cornish countryside, they had allowed themselves a break from the icy conditions up in the north of the country, even if down here they had to put up with copious amounts of rain. At least they weren't shivering and struggling to sleep from the cold each night.

Harry was stood in his pyjama bottoms and a hooded sweatshirt next to his bed, having leapt up from his sleepy stupor upon hearing a rather loud swear word that definitely had not come from Hermione - and judging by Ron's snores, not from him either.

"Who's there?" she called again. "Show yourself!"

There was still no reply, and when Hermione began to shuffle toward the door again Harry called out.

"Wait! I've just realised, they can't hear you! Whoever it is, your wards stop them from hearing anything we're saying."

Hermione cursed herself for not realising that earlier. Wand arm shaking, she took a deep breath to steel her senses.

"Well if they can't hear me, they won't be able to see me either. Stay there, Harry. You know who they want. I'll just check - I promise I won't go outside of the wards."

Harry looked dubious. He was reluctant to let either of his friends take any chances on this journey, particularly as he had tried to go alone in the first place. Although now he had to admit he wouldn't have survived without them, he still wanted to save them from his undeniable fate. Dumbledore had prepared him for the worst, but the worst didn't involve his two best friends.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "But if I don't hear from you after 10 seconds of you going through that door, I'm coming out."

Nodding her agreement to that plan, not wanting to be ambushed outside, Hermione ignored the bile rising in her throat as she reached out for the tent flap.

"Wait," she whispered, turning around. Harry looked alarmed and jumped into a defensive stance. "You should wake Ron."

Harry relaxed and shot Hermione a look for scaring him, but reached towards Ron to stifle his snores and bring him into consciousness.

"Hello?" she called out as she pulled back the tent flap, mentally cursing herself again when she remembered the wards. With a deep breath and a frantically beating heart, she stepped out into the darkness.

What she saw wasn't exactly what she expected. There were the dark black robes of a death eater, but she recognised that ruffled blonde hair and pale face anywhere. He had his hand up in front of him like a Muggle mime, but Hermione realised his hand was placed on her wards.

"Potter!" Draco hissed. "Granger! Weasel? One of you, goddamn, listen to me."

Hermione moved forwards until she was stood right in front of him. She couldn't ever recall being so close to him, except perhaps the time she had punched him in Third Year. But he was so much taller now. She had to crane her neck to look up into his face, and took great wonder in knowing he had no clue she was there.

She jumped when he spoke again, forgetting his voice would be much louder now she was right in front of his face.

"You need to get out of here. They know your location within a 5 mile radius - one of you said the Dark Lord's name, it's Taboo - and they're combing the area. Lucky for you I found you first. They know how to break your wards -"

Hermione's heartbeat had increased dramatically again, and without a second thought as to whether this could be someone using Polyjuice or what Draco's intentions were, she reached her hand through the wards and grabbed Draco's aloft hand.

His face was comical, the white expression of shock making him look ghost-like. Dragging him through her wards, Hermione pulled him into safety - or at least safety for the moment, if what he said was true.

"How long do we have?" she asked immediately. Draco looked taken aback. He wasn't expecting to be invited in for tea and crumpets when he chose to warn them. _Fuck_, he thought. _I'm for it now._

"Hermione? Who are you talking to?" Harry came running out of the tent, Ron stumbling sleepily behind. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the man in front of him. Hermione realised she was still holding his hand and dropped it promptly.

"Tell them," Hermione ordered. "Quickly."

"Fucking hell, Granger, what did you bring me in here for?" Draco groaned, running his hand through his hair. "If the others find me in here the Dark Lord will crucify me for the rest of my life."

Hermione did feel a little guilty - she hadn't thought of the consequences for Draco. He was helping them already, after all.

"Sorry," she said brusquely, her wand still pointed forwards - at him now. "Just say it again."

"One of you said his name, and it's Taboo -"

"I _told_ you!" Ron cried triumphantly, looking around at Hermione and Harry. Draco shot him a disgusted look before continuing.

"They know your location within a 5 mile radius - it could be anywhere within those 5 miles. They're searching now. They sent me off alone, and I found you first. You need to fucking go, right now. Death Eaters will be here any second and will smash down your wards like they're fucking Protego."

Harry looked thoughtful - and skeptical.

"Why should we trust you?" he asked.

"Merlin's pants, Potter!" Draco cried, exasperated. "How would it harm you if I told you to move? I'm not telling you where to go, or asking you to tell me where you're going."

"Why are you helping us?" Hermione asked, not unkindly.

Draco stood motionless for a few seconds, looking around at the three faces staring back at him. The gormless freckled face of Weasley, the older-than-his-years expression upon Potter's, and the keen inquisition on Granger's. Why was he helping them?

"Because you're the only chance the world's got," he muttered bitterly.

Harry looked surprised at this admission, but Hermione had had an inkling all along that Draco wanted this war to end. It was clear to anyone with a brain that he didn't want to be a part of it.

"You can come with us," she offered confidently.

"You what?" Ron spluttered, staring at Hermione like she'd grown three heads.

"Excuse me?" Draco said at the same time, sure he'd heard her wrong.

"Come with us," she repeated. "We can protect you. You don't have to do horrible things anymore, Malfoy. Help us win. You'll be forgiven."

Ron was still spluttering and had turned a rather amusing shade of pink, but Harry said nothing, showed no expression. As much as he disliked Malfoy, he knew Hermione was doing the right thing. Plus Malfoy could have some vital information.

"What if I want to do horrible things?" Draco muttered, embarrassed at her generosity.

"We all know that's not true, Malfoy," Harry said evenly. "You know I don't like you, but she's right. It's too late for you to go back now. Come with us and do the right thing."

"Do you have to sound so perfectly pretentious all the time, Potter?" Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Now isn't the time, Malfoy. We've got to get packed up and go."

"I'll start collecting stuff up," Ron offered, stumbling forward a step. He was still half asleep, and only wearing his pyjama bottoms.

"Good Lord, Weasley, put some clothes on will you? You're making me feel sick," Draco drawled, looking away in horror from Ron's bare chest.

"Oi! Can it, Malfoy!" Ron began, but cut himself off quickly.

All four froze, perking up their ears like dogs as they strained to hear outside. They had all heard the deep voice outside.

"It's too late to pack up," Hermione panicked. "Accio," she muttered, summoning all the important items she needed for Horcrux hunting that weren't in the beaded bag tucked into an inside pocket of her dressing gown. Stuffing them in the bag, and the bag back in her pocket, she grabbed Draco's hand, holding tight despite his immediate protests. With the other she grabbed Ron's.

"Harry, hold onto Ronald," she ordered quickly. "Get ready for Apparition."

More voices could be heard outside. But just as Hermione began the thought process of Apparition, Ron spotted his wand lying on the floor just a meter from him.

"My wand! Wait a second, Hermione!" he called, letting go of her hand as he dashed forward to retrieve it.

Hermione's sense of fear returned at the loss of contact, and the last thing she saw as she and Draco Malfoy Apparated away was the horrified look on Harry's face as he rushed forwards to grab onto one of them, still holding Ron's hand.

As she slammed into the hard, frozen ground of a hidden cave midway up a remote mountain, Hermione cried out immediately.

"Harry! Ron!"

She had bitten her lip landing, as she had fallen instead of landing upright, but ignored the trickles of blood now dripping down her chin.

"They're not here, Granger," Draco told her, feeling sick himself. Being stuck with the three of them would have been bad enough, but just Granger? And only Merlin knew what had happened to Potter. He hoped they had been quick enough to Apparate away too.

Hermione's head was swimming. The distracted Apparition had knocked her senses away, and as panic erupted inside her like a fountain at Draco's words, she fell back to the floor in a sea of darkness.

**Hey guys! New story. Sorry it's been so long, but exams, you know? Enjoyyyy :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing so far :) I think this is going to be much better than my others (or at least what I've written so far is)!**

Draco was sat miserably inside the shadowy cave, his hands covered in Granger's blood. He could clean them, but he couldn't really be bothered. Dirty blood? It looked just the fucking same to him.

He'd rolled her into the recovery position after she fainted, at first irritated by her dramatics. Did she really have to stumble about like a lost sheep and then nearly choke on her own blood?

But then he realised he didn't know what it was like to be torn apart from your best friends. He didn't recall ever having any best friends, and certainly didn't know what it was like to miss someone. Or be missed.

Yeah, like anyone would miss him.

But he supposed he knew one person right now would be noting his absence, and the searing pain that burned into the flesh of his forearm was confirmation of the Dark Lord's anger. Traitor.

He hadn't meant to join the bloody wonder trio's side! All he'd wanted to do was give them a chance. And maybe, just maybe, give himself a chance in the process. But Granger had gone all charitable and forgiving on him and he'd had no choice. If he'd stayed he would have never been able to talk himself out of the situation with the Death Eaters. He was within their wards, they were all unharmed (and Granger was holding his stupid hand) and he hadn't summoned any of them.

It's not like he wanted to be a part of the Dark Lord's scheme. Merlin knew he didn't. But he had no choice. So why on earth would he be accepted by the other side? He'd enjoyed being a horrible little shit to them for 6 years. He certainly didn't expect acceptance.

But of course she had to ruin it all with her offers of protection. He had wavered, but was planning on getting out of there before he was found. It hadn't worked.

When Granger fainted he'd been unsure of what to do. However, he had spent a good ten minutes casting all the wards and charms he knew to protect them - including ones from books in his own private library at the manor. Unless his father scoured through every book in Draco's room, they wouldn't know how to get through them.

She was still in pyjamas and a dressing gown. Her tiny feet were bare and her hair was tied up in a bun. Draco noticed it looked considerably thinner and drier. Her face was pale and her skin looked too tight across her face, highlighted by the dark circles under her eyes. This girl wasn't well.

Taking her beaded bag from where he saw her stow it, Draco hesitated before opening it. Wasn't there some kind of code against going through girls' handbags? But he shook his head; judging by the weight of it, this bag did not contain lipstick and sanitary towels.

He took his time carefully blotting the blood off her face and her chin before siphoning off the dried-on residue with a charm. The cut had stopped bleeding by itself, so he left it be. But after she'd saved his life, he couldn't leave her outside of the cave, so he picked her up (praying to anyone that she wouldn't wake up and think he was being _nice_) and laid her inside.

Draco was sat as far away from her as possible, staring down at the blood on his hands. Deep down in his heart he knew that had Granger not brought him here, he would have eventually had her blood on his hands in the most fatal way. He was grateful, and she was even tolerable when asleep.

But it didn't stop him hating her guts when she woke up.

Why did she ask so many bloody questions?

"Malfoy? Is that you?"

He sighed, her voice breaking him out of his stupor. He was still staring down at his hands.

"Yes, Granger. Who the hell else would I be?"

"Well I was hoping you'd be Harry and Ron, but I can see they're not -" Hermione broke off, her voice cracking with a soft sob. She hoped to god that they were okay. She knew Harry would be able to Apparate should the situation call for it, and Ron really should have passed his exam (even with half an eyebrow missing). And somehow, she believed that she would be able to feel it inside if something had happened to them. They had a connection.

"Is that blood? Did I splinch you? Oh god, not again - I can't deal with splinching, when Ron's arm had a piece missing I nearly threw up, and it was all my fault, I'm just so terrible at Side-Along, especially when something's happening -"

"Merlin, do you ever shut up woman?" Draco cried, exasperated. "I'm not splinched. This is yours. You bust your lip."

It was still dark inside the cave, as dawn hadn't broken yet, but in the weak moonlight that managed to reach them he saw her hands fly to her mouth and prod and poke it. She hissed in pain and he scoffed. Part of him wondered about this splinching incident she was waffling on about, but he decided to leave that for now.

"Stop being an arse, Malfoy," Hermione said irritably. "I saved your life."

"Yeah, and don't expect me to be grateful!" he snapped, getting up suddenly. "I never asked you to. I never asked for your help, Granger, so don't expect me to act like Potter and grovel at your feet for the next ten years. It's not happening."

He kicked a stone at his feet, listening to the echoes of its clatters against the floor.

"Don't expect me to like you either. Because I don't. You're still a filthy Mudblood."

Ignoring her involuntary intake of breath, he stormed out and sat by the mouth of the cave. He wished he hadn't used the word Mudblood, but she really did grind his gears. Why did he have to be thankful? He wasn't the kind of person who had been grateful for what he got when he was a child. He was spoilt with as many possessions as he liked, but he was starved of the family bond he knew Granger and her Muggle parents shared, as well as the Weasleys. Potter - well, Potter was just a bloody hero, wasn't he?

He thought back to just a few years ago. Within the Slytherin common room he had been the most powerful, the most influential... And yet now here he was wearing Death Eater robes.

Drops of rain began to fall on the dry rocks, and as it got heavier Draco lifted his hands to the sky and let the blood run off.

Hermione felt as if she'd been torn in two, and the other half was with her best friends. She wanted so badly to go back, to see if they had managed to escape. But even if she went back she wouldn't know because they wouldn't be there. Part of her ached to send them a Patronus, but she didn't know if they were being watched. She knew she would have to wait for them to contact her.

She was relieved she wasn't alone, but being with Draco Malfoy was probably worse. Calling her a Mudblood was a low blow, and it hurt. Just who the hell did he think he was? She'd saved him from certain death - and most likely unthinkable torture beforehand. She'd offered him protection.

Protection! She sat up quickly. She hadn't put any of her wards up! Finding her wand tucked carefully into her pocket, she raced out of the mouth of the cave to start casting.

"I already did it," Draco drawled, soaked to the skin by rain. He'd taken his robes off, and his shirt clung to his skin.

"You - what?" Hermione hadn't realised it was raining, and she tried to shield her face from the water.

"I already put up wards. And they're better than yours. No, I'm not trying to better you, Granger, before you speak. I mean that Death Eaters don't know the counter-curses to mine."

Hermione was impressed. "Did you make them yourself?" she asked, incredulous. "It takes a great wizard to come up with successful spells. I read that one -"

"No," Draco cut in loudly, not wanting her to natter on for another thirty minutes about inventing spells. "They're from books in my private library. Now leave me alone. I came out here to get rid of your incessant talking."

Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. Oh, what she would have done for a private library...

"But surely that means your father can find them if he wanted to?" she asked curiously.

"Not unless he wants to search through ten thousand books, Granger. Seriously, will you piss off? You're giving me a headache."

Hermione was bristling with anger. He had been so rude to her ever since they'd arrived, even after the help she had given him. Just who did he think he was?

"I'm getting fed up with your attitude, Malfoy! There's no need to be so rude to me. Were you not taught any manners by your parents, or were they too busy attending to You-Know-Who?"

Immediately she knew this was a mistake. In the time it took to blink, he had pushed her back against the outer wall of the cave with his hand at her throat and his wand in her face. Hermione tried not to show her fear, putting on a defiant face and staring him straight in the eye.

"Don't you ever speak about my home life, Granger," he hissed in her face, his grey eyes sparking with anger. "Didn't _your_ parents ever teach you not to talk shit about things you don't understand? Little miss prissy."

He shook her in anger, warning sparks dancing at the tip of his wand.

"You don't scare me, Malfoy," Hermione said confidently. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to sound. It came out as more of a choked breath.

Draco realised how tightly he was holding Granger's throat and dropped his hands. That girl was going to be the death of him. Either that or he'd end up killing her, and then where would he be? He couldn't go back to his family, and Potter and the Weasel certainly wouldn't have him if he'd killed the bookworm.

Hermione massaged her throat with her hands. He'd nearly choked her to death. She had said so many times that Draco didn't have murder in him, but she might have to change her mind. He didn't have _planned _murder in him, but she could bet his anger might get the better of him one day. And he had mentioned her own parents... With a painful heart, she wondered if they were okay in Australia.

As Hermione relaxed and got her breath back, Draco was suddenly hit with the worst pain imaginable in his forearm. He was being summoned, and the Dark Lord was really, really pissed off. He cried out, a long, drawn-out yell, and fell to his knees, clutching his arm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he hissed, tears stinging his eyes. This was awful, and Granger was watching. He didn't want her knowing how much the Dark Mark hurt him. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys did not show weakness.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" she asked in alarm, unsure of what to do.

"Go... Away..." he gasped, turning away from her.

That was the last straw for Hermione. He nearly suffocated her to death and yet was still a rude little snob when she offered him help? Well, fine.

He could lay out here and suffer in the downpour.


	3. Chapter 3

When dawn broke Hermione was awoken by the loud, painful cries of her own stomach. She had eaten little the day before, having only collected a few mushrooms and berries to share between herself and the boys. She didn't know how much longer she could live without eating properly. It was starting to fog her brain, and the last thing she needed right now was to be making the wrong judgments and ending up dead.

Sunlight was spilling into the cave, falsely portraying an image of warmth. It was very, very cold, and Hermione scrambled about in her bag for her day clothes, realising she was still in her pyjamas. About to get up and leave, she turned back and grabbed an extra jacket and her scarf. She could see her breath in front of her face.

But then she heard the unmistakable crackling and popping of a fire. As she emerged, smoke blew into her face, and the most delicious smell she could ever imagine wafted into her nostrils.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?!"

Draco had not been inside since last night. The rain had stopped and he started a fire to warm himself up, using branches from the sparse number of trees around the mountainside. He would normally be reluctant to start a fire, but he knew his wards would contain the smoke and fire so that they could not be seen by enemies far away.

He had tried to creep back inside at one point, to see if Granger had any blankets in that beaded bag of hers, but she was laying on it. Loud rumbles echoed around the walls; it took him a moment to realise it was Granger's stomach. She looked as if she hadn't eaten in weeks, her bones protruding and skin dull.

As a child, Draco had never really spent much time with his father. Nor his mother, for that matter. Instead he chose to spend his time outside with the groundskeeper, Eldin. Eldin was a nice man, and Draco was aware that he did not agree with the Malfoys' beliefs. However he needed money to support his family and so agreed to work for the tidy sum he was offered.

He taught Draco basics in gardening, which plants were edible and those which would cause instant death. Eldin taught him how to hunt using basic, painless spells and then to prepare food for eating. Draco hadn't realised at the time, but Eldin was teaching him basic survival skills. It seemed he had known all along that Draco would have to face the world alone and decided to help him along.

Eldin disappeared after Draco's Fifth Year. He was sure nothing bad had happened to him, but that he had chosen to leave before things at the manor got really out of hand. He hoped Eldin and his family had survived the war so far.

So when the light had started filtering into the sky, Draco had taken advantage of the number of animals scurrying about and managed to catch a rabbit, and of a fairly decent size too. More than big enough for him and Granger, if he decided to share.

All Hermione saw when she went outside was Draco's back and a lot of smoke. He was huddled over the fire, cooking the rabbit he'd caught earlier.

"Calm down, Granger," he drawled. "Nobody can see the smoke."

"Oh," she said. She was sure that she was supposed to find something wrong with what he was doing, but she couldn't really.

Hermione felt awkward but supposed she should take a seat, and sat across from Draco at the other side of the fire. Neither of them spoke, and Hermione took a book on Horcruxes out of her bag and began to read silently, trying to find any information she might have missed on destroying them. She held it gingerly in her fingers, for the book was large, old and really quite gruesome looking.

Draco rolled his eyes. Did she have to read all the bloody time? The book caught his eye though. That did not look like something Granger had picked up from Hogwarts Library; there were many books in a similar state in the Malfoy family library. He craned his neck to get a look at the title, but Granger suddenly looked up and he snapped his head away, reaching forwards to take the rabbit off the fire.

It was cooked to perfection and Draco's hungry mouth couldn't wait to devour it. The first bite a few minutes later confirmed his confidence in the skills Eldin had taught him, and it was only about 20 seconds later that he paused, having heard Granger's stomach rumbling from all the way over the other side of the fire. He could see her cheeks reddening and her eyes stayed firmly on the pages of her book.

Sighing at the good samaritan move he was about to pull, he tore the rest of the animal into two portions.

"Here, Granger," he said, throwing her the food. She looked up in alarm and only just caught it, and stared at him like he'd done the nicest thing ever and she wasn't sure if she should eat it or not.

"Just eat it for Merlin's sake," Draco snapped. "You look horrific. Have you seen yourself recently, Granger? You look like you're about to drop dead at any minute. Imagine what people would think if you died when you were alone with me? I'd be probably be incinerated."

Hermione knew his rudeness was to make up for the fact he'd done something kind of nice, so she ignored him. He might have been right though. She hadn't looked in a mirror in weeks, maybe months. There was a small compact one somewhere in the bag, but she'd have to Accio to find it.

Taking a bite, it was all Hermione could do not to salivate everywhere. She hadn't had proper food in so long, not knowing how to hunt things properly and without drawing attention. This rabbit was divine.

"Jesus, Malfoy," she moaned, her mouth full.

Draco scrunched up his nose at her lack of manners, but wondered how long it had been since she'd eaten. He watched her eat the whole thing, somehow not being able to look away as he saw her appreciate each and every mouthful and then lick her fingers clean.

"Thanks," she said, taking up her book again. This made him curious again.

"What is that you're reading? Doesn't look like something someone like you should have picked up. Take somebody else's by mistake?"

Hermione gave him a piercing stare. He had no bloody clue what he was talking about, how dangerous and important this was.

"Someone like me, Malfoy? A Mudblood, you mean. Well this is exactly something I should be reading, seeing as it's going to help us take down You-Know-Who for good. Something I doubt you have the first sodding clue about."

Draco looked taken aback at her outburst. She had really peaked his interest now. What could she possibly know about the Dark Lord that he didn't?

"What on earth are you talking about, Granger?" he asked in a bored tone. She looked thoughtful.

"I'm not sure this is exactly something I can share with you, Malfoy. I don't trust you. What if you left tonight and told the Death Eaters everything? We'd have no chance at ever winning."

He didn't exactly expect her to trust him, but he knew he wasn't going anywhere. Certain death awaited, and he knew being with Granger would actually help him in the long run, although he might end up in St Mungo's mental ward.

"Yeah, because I want to die," he drawled sarcastically. "If Potter were here I know he'd persuade you to tell me. I might know things about this that you don't, things that might help you."

Hermione considered this for a long while, before shutting the book and nodding.

"Are you sure nobody can hear through your wards?" she asked.

"Don't question my competency, Granger."

She shot him a look. "I'm being serious. This is so important." When he didn't say anything, she took a deep breath and wondered where to start.

"You-Know-Who knew that one day something might happen to him. He was only sixteen when he found out about a kind of Dark Magic, some of the most awful Dark Magic that I've ever read about. It enabled him to split his soul into two pieces, but at the cost of another human life."

Draco felt a little sick. He knew about all number of horrific Dark spells, but he really didn't like where this story could be going.

"His plan was to split his soul into seven pieces," she continued, and Draco almost threw up in his mouth. "But before he could make his seventh his spell rebounded off Harry and he was less than human, or so we think. He only survived because he'd split his soul and anchored it to earth, and it's one of the most diminishing things anyone can do to themselves. His humanity is nothing now. If he ever had any," she spat.

Draco's mind was reeling. How the fucking hell didn't he know any of this? Did his father not think it was something that Draco would understand or be trusted with? Did his father even _know_?

"The fragments of soul are trapped inside magical objects, or objects that would then become magical. They're called Horcruxes. Did you ever hear anyone speak of them?"

He shook his head, not sure if he could speak.

"We've been hunting them down. Harry accidentally destroyed one in his Second Year. In Sixth Year, when you were -"

She broke off, realising what she was about to say. When you were finding a way for Death Eaters to break into our beloved school and kill Dumbledore. She couldn't finish that sentence. Draco looked up at her silence, pain visible in his cold eyes. He regretted nothing more than causing Dumbledore's death. It was no real comfort, although a relief, that he hadn't had to do it himself.

"In Sixth Year, Dumbledore was giving Harry private lessons. He would show him memories, and eventually things began to link together with the Horcruxes. Dumbledore destroyed one, the ring, which is why his hand turned black. He touched it, not thinking about whether or not it was cursed. The night he died, he and Harry had been to get another one, but somebody had already taken it and replaced it with a fake. We eventually tracked it down and destroyed it."

She rummaged inside her bag for the broken and disfigured remains of the locket. Draco took it from her with a disgusted look.

"What did you do to it?" he asked, appalled.

"We each took it in turns to wear it, but it turned us into really horrible versions of ourselves. Ron was the worst, it was just horrific. None of the things we said would have been said if we weren't wearing it. When it was opened, it tried to show us the worst things we could imagine. It's so hard to finish them off. It actually is, too - only a few substances are known to destroy them, and they're all dangerous in themselves. Basilisk venom, Fiendfyre..."

"Merlin, Granger," Draco breathed, giving her back the locket. "I never realised how much you lot knew. We all just thought you were heading into war like idiots."

Hermione raised her chin in defiance. "Well we aren't. Weren't. I don't know... They might have figured out more since we've been separated, maybe..."

She was getting worked up again, Draco could see. But they had a way of getting rid of him for good. He had assumed the Dark Lord was immortal, but by killing off these Horcruxes...

"We can make him mortal," he realised, out loud.

"Yes, Draco," Hermione said, excited he was catching on. "We can give ourselves a real chance when it comes down to the final moments. So what do you think? Will you help us - me?"

Looking into her hopeful, determined face, Draco knew it was the only chance he had at survival, never mind being pardoned afterwards. He had to make sure he made it through first.

"What do I have to do?"


	4. Chapter 4

They slept with blankets from Hermione's bag that night, and in the morning they both thought it was fitting that they moved on. It did not do to stay too long, especially as that was the first place they had gone to since they escaped.

Hermione felt weird holding her hand out for Apparition and instead of finding Ron and Harry's familiar palms, recieving a disdainful look from Malfoy instead. Eventually, though, Malfoy took her hand and she whisked them away.

A windy moor. The heavy gales whipped Hermione's hair into her face and Draco's robes nearly over his head. Draco immediately started casting spells as Hermione rummaged about in the bag.

"WHERE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO SLEEP, GRANGER? IN A BADGER SET?" Draco shouted over the roaring.

"I KNOW THERE'S A SPARE TENT IN HERE SOMEWHERE!" Hermione yelled back, eventually getting fed up of having hair in her mouth and just summoning it instead. Putting it up with a flick of her wand, she noted it looked a little small. This didn't bother her; she had gotten used to magical tents and their huge insides by now.

Except when they crawled inside and sighed in relief at the shelter, it wasn't as big as she expected. There were two single beds right next to each other. A curtained-off area she expected to be the bathroom. And a tiny kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she said anxiously. "The old one was much bigger, but there wasn't any time to pack it up. We never really expected to use this one, but it's always best to be prepared, you know? Just in case the worst happens. And look, we do need to use it, don't we? So it was probably a good thing I packed -"

"It's fine, just shut up," Draco said loudly, and Hermione's mouth promptly closed. She knew she had been blabbering, but the small space made her a bit nervous and she always talked a lot when she was nervous.

Lighting the stove, Hermione sighed at the warmth that spread through the room like a tidal wave. Draco had settled on his chosen bed, the one on the outside, and as there was nowhere else to sit in the tent Hermione settled down on her own bed and looked through her bag once again. A pile of books fell over with a rumble. She found some of the boys' clothes and robes and wondered how they were doing without any supplies. And there was her little mirror.

Glancing sideways to make sure Malfoy wasn't looking, Hermione opened it and lifted it up to her face. She nearly dropped it again. She looked _horrible_ - she really hadn't realised she looked so awful and gaunt! Her poor hair had been falling out through stress, and it lay now in a weak, thin, limp state. Nothing like the frizzy bush that Malfoy had once so mocked. And her _eyes _- so dead.

Her hand began to shake and she swallowed. Draco's eyes flitted towards her. So she hadn't seen what she looked like recently. How was he to know? It was a bit of a shock for him seeing her like that after so long, so he bet she felt much worse.

"When did you learn to Apparate?" he asked loudly, not looking at her.

Hermione snapped the mirror shut and put it back in her bag. Grateful for the change of subject, she replied in fervour.

"Just at Hogwarts. I was so worried I wouldn't pass, but I did. I somehow knew that it was always going to come in useful. Just imagine if I hadn't been able to get us away from there."

Draco looked at her thoughtfully. "Can either of those two dunces Apparate?"

Rolling her eyes at his addressal of Harry and Ron, she shook her head. "Well, not technically. But Harry took Dumbledore when he was weakened on the night of his death, and Ron only failed his exam because he left half an eyebrow behind, so I imagine they'll make do."

Draco snorted at the thought of Weasley missing half his eyebrow, and it felt so good to laugh. He couldn't remember laughing at anything for months, maybe years, and it hurt his face. Hermione gave a chuckle too, and let the happier vibes wash over her for a moment.

They had both trailed off into deep thought.

"When do you think they'll contact us?" Hermione ventured.

Annoyed she had broken him from his thoughts, Draco snapped back. "I don't fucking know, do I? They might not even bother. They might not be able to. They might be -"

"Don't say that!" Hermione shouted over him. "Don't say things like that, Malfoy! I know they're ok. I'd feel it if they weren't."

"You'd feel it?" Draco scoffed. He was getting fed up with her; their civility over the last day or so had riled him up. He hated being nice. "Cry me a fucking river, Granger. You wouldn't feel it. They could be dead right now and you wouldn't even know!"

"Shut up!" she cried, thrusting her wand into his face. Neither of them spoke. Draco knew he'd hit a nerve. If he carried on down that route she'd hex him into next week, and no doubt it would be something clever he didn't know the bloody counter-curse to.

"Just leave it, Malfoy," she muttered, dropping her wand and turning away. "I don't have the energy to deal with your spite."

The rest of the day Hermione spent poring over books, desperately wishing for Ron and Harry to send word of their whereabouts. She wasn't quite sure where to start, as she and the boys usually bounced ideas off each other. She didn't think Malfoy would be too keen to start a study session.

It was evening time and Draco had already been outside to catch food. He shared it with Granger again, feeling pretty smug that he could provide food for the both of them. He could cook it properly on the stove this time, and both he and Hermione had yelled in excitement when Draco had opened a cupboard and found stores of dried herbs and spices.

But when Hermione had finished eating and was attempting to tune in the radio as Ron had so keenly done, she was met with a smell of acrid smoke and burning. Coughing slightly, she moved to the edge of the tent to see Draco's Death Eater robes alight in front of him on the moor.

"You'll get cold now," she said quietly.

"I don't care," he snapped, extinguishing the last of the embers and storming past her.

He hated the robes. He didn't want to be a Death Eater, and he certainly didn't want to be wearing those robes every single day. It just reminded him of everything he'd fucked up in his life.

She joined him back inside where he was staring angrily at nothing, sat on his bed.

"Maybe we should do night watches - in the old tent, we took it in turns to -"

"Don't need to."

That was all Draco said. She assumed he meant his wards would warn them of unwanted guests, so she settled down under the duvet of her own bed, the beaded bag underneath it too.

"You know, I can find some of Ron's robes in here, I'm sure they'll fit you. Of course it won't be the same as having your own, but at least it'll help with the cold..." she offered quietly.

"Do you really think I want to be wearing the Weasel's hand-me-downs?" Draco asked, pure disgust dripping from his words. "It's probably been worn by all the members of his family already."

"It was just an offer, Draco," Hermione said, her cheeks flaming at his rebuttal.

Draco was in one of his tempers. His moods could get so low that he wouldn't even get up or eat or sometimes even sleep. All the negativity in the world seemed to press upon his shoulders and there was no way for him to shrug it off. Every little thing irritated him like a blade scraping sideways across his skin, and so all her saintly offers of help were not answered in kind.

"Well I don't fucking need your help, ok? Just leave me alone Granger, before I stick my wand in your eye socket."

Hermione's face went even redder. She was embarrassed at the way she had allowed Malfoy to belittle her so. But she had been trying to help; her mind was not geared up for a battle with him. Although she normally tossed and turned before falling asleep, tonight she stayed firmly facing the canvas wall of the tent, leaving Draco with a view of the back of her head.

He could feel it coming. He'd felt it coming when Granger's kind words had struck him like needles poking into his skin. One of his lowest moods was washing over him like clouds of a thunderstorm rolling across the sky. His eyes were tired, but he could not sleep. Granger was breathing softly beside him, her breaths even in sleep. She had resolutely stayed facing away from him all night, some womanly way of telling him that he had hurt her feelings. At that moment, he barely cared. His own emotions were drowning him.

He normally just waited these episodes out, staying for a few days in his dormitory or his room at the manor. But Granger shouldn't know about it. He hated talking about feelings. Malfoys didn't show weaknesses.

When Hermione awoke, Draco still hadn't gone to sleep. She tried to sneak past him as she got up, but a glance back showed her that his eyes were wide open. She glared at him hard, trying to show him how pissed off she was about last night. He didn't even blink.

"Malfoy? Is everything ok?"

He took a deep breath before answering. "Fine."

Hermione pushed her anger to one side; she'd find it later when he was ready to hear it. As much as she disliked him, she was concerned. Was Voldemort doing something to affect him? Perhaps with the mark? Was it something to do with him burning the Death Eater robes the night before?

Thinking hard, she tried to figure out how to get him to respond. She called him all the names under the sun, and even resorted to making comments about his family again, but he just wouldn't get up.

"I didn't mean that, by the way," she added, after she'd made the family comments. "I'm just trying to get a response out of you."

She guessed he wouldn't be of much use today and made a mental list of all the things she had to do, but her stomach was fighting with her head. There was no food left over from last night, and she knew she'd have to venture outside to collect something.

Pausing at the edge of the tent, Hermione glanced back at Draco. She'd never seen anyone look so depressed and tormented in her life. She felt sorry for him.

"I'm going outside to get something to eat, ok?"

He responded with a half-hum, half-grunt, and Hermione sighed. Opening her bag, tucked into a pocket as always, she fished out the robes she had already found for him and placed at the top of the pile and laid them down next to him.

"I know you said you don't want them, but I'm giving them to you anyway," she said firmly. He shuffled under his duvet but said nothing else, and Hermione sighed again as she turned and ventured out into the windy open.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione had tried and failed to capture the small animals that she'd come across outside. She didn't know how Malfoy did it (or where he had learned, for that matter), but she just couldn't. Realising with a sigh that she'd have to find plants to eat, she cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and ventured outside of the wards. Harry had the Invisibility Cloak in his small rucksack. Hermione hoped he had more clothes and things in there too.

She was always edgy when outside the wards, but nothing came across her path. She found a large patch of edible mushrooms, as well as some edible leaves and foliage. Hoping to make some kind of pathetic salad or stir fry, she made her way back to the tent.

Draco was facing the other way now, staring straight towards her empty bed, and so she took this to mean he didn't want her to look at him. He didn't seem to be panicking, so she assumed this was something he was used to. It still concerned her though, how he had become so comatose and lifeless. She hoped he'd snap out of it soon.

The mushrooms were washed and finely chopped before she fried them in some garlic herbs she retrieved from the cupboard. Once she'd started eating she had to admit that this was the best meal she'd ever prepared in a tent, and she ate a large portion with some still left.

"Would you like something to eat, Malfoy?" she said across the room.

Draco didn't turn over. The thought of eating anything right now was utterly sickening, but he knew this wasn't the worst low he'd had and he'd probably be much better by tomorrow. He hoped Granger would find something nice.

"No," he replied monotonously.

With a small sigh, Hermione left the rest of the food to one side, casting a charm to keep it fresh. She never thought she'd say it, but she really wanted Malfoy to be back to his usual snide, sharp self. Seeing him like this wasn't right.

The thought that Voldemort could have possessed him had flitted across Hermione's mind, but it just didn't add up when she thought properly about it. She tried to think back to Hogwarts, to remember if something like this had happened before. In Sixth Year he'd barely turned up to meals at all, and now she knew why, but she vaguely recalled before that sometimes when Draco wouldn't go to any of his meals or lessons for a few days. Maybe it was some kind of illness.

Speaking of illness, Hermione was starting to feel a little queasy. Immediately she jumped up to check the remains of her meal, but she knew for definite everything there wasn't poisonous. Had she grabbed a stray leaf by mistake?

Half an hour later Hermione was in no doubt that she'd eaten something wrong. She was throwing up every twenty minutes, her stomach now empty again.

From his position on the bed, Draco could see Granger's legs on the floor through the open bathroom curtain. The accompanying noises filled in the rest of the picture in his mind, and he was sure she was sat with her head in the toilet bowl. As much as he wished she would shut up once in a while, this was not the way he would have chosen. He hated being sick, and knew how awful she would be feeling. When he could manage to get himself up, he'd check what she'd eaten from outside to see how bad the damage was.

Knowing she would get nothing done today, Hermione resigned herself to sitting next to the toilet for hours on end waiting for her stomach to empty itself. This is not the way she wanted this Horcrux hunt to be going. First she was separated from Ron and Harry, then landed here with Draco, who then fell into some dark void, and now she was emptying her guts up. Her nostrils were just filled with the stench of vomit, even though she cleared it up straight away each time. Sweat poured off her skin, and each time she retched tears dripped from her eyes.

Feeling thoroughly sorry for herself, when she finally stopped being sick Hermione settled herself onto her bed. She moved slowly, not wanting to upset her stomach, and wondered what would have happened it she was back with Harry and Ron and all three of them were ill.

Ron would be blaming her for everything. He'd moan about how he could have done so much better, but when it came down to it, he wouldn't have done anything at all. And Harry would be suffering in silence, something he knew how to do so well.

As he was still facing the wall, Hermione was now right in front of Draco's eyesight. She looked sweaty, pale and clammy, and he was glad he was not suffering that too. Part of him felt a little guilty; if he'd got the food, she wouldn't be ill. But it wasn't his fault that he fell victim to these dark moments. It's not like he wanted them. They clouded his mind like an inescapable tornado, but he could feel the sun starting to fight its way through the cloud. This one would only last a day, he hoped. By tomorrow he'd be fine. Hopefully he'd manage to get some sleep tonight.

Quiet sniffling alerted him to the fact that she was crying. He hated girls crying. It made him awkward, as if he should have to do something to comfort them, even though he didn't want to. But she looked so sick and fed up that he managed to move his arm from under the duvet, reach forwards and take her hand.

She looked up in surprise, but his eyes were closed. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before dropping it again and retreating his own back towards his body. It was the nicest thing he'd ever done, and the confusion created a distraction for Hermione from thinking about how awful she felt, allowing her to fall into sleep along with the boy across from her.

Both were awoken from their slumber an hour earlier than they would have normally risen.

A bright blue glow filled the inside of Hermione's eyelids, and as she opened her eyes she saw the outline of a stag's antlers push through the opening of the tent.

"Harry!" she shouted, bolting upright. Draco, having finally managed to get some sleep, was alarmed at her outburst.

"Granger? Is everything ok?"

"It's Harry's Patronus!" she breathed, and both of them rushed out of their beds and towards the emerging stag.

"Keep your distance," Draco warned. "It could be a trick."

"But how would it have got through the wards otherwise?"

Before Draco could reply, the silvery stag's mouth opened and Harry's voice filled the tent.

"I don't know if this will work - I've never done one before. We're safe at Phlegm's. Found 4 but can't get rid of it - you have Gryffindor. Hope ferret isn't being too much of an idiot."

The Patronus began to disperse and the light it provided faded, leaving Hermione and Draco stood alone in the dark. Draco couldn't make head nor tail of what just happened.

"What on earth did that mean?" he said, screwing up his nose.

"Shh, shh!" Hermione replied, flapping about and trying to find some parchment and a quill to write it down. "Okay, so they're safe at Bill and Fleur's cottage. I don't know much about it, or where it is. And they've found the fourth Horcrux!"

Draco raised his eyebrows. He was impressed that the duo had found another one so quickly. They had only been separated a few days. "How?"

"The objects have all been important to You-Know-Who. We believe some of them might be the Hogwarts founders items too - they've probably found Hufflepuff's cup!" she said excitedly. She continued deciphering the message.

"They can't destroy it - I have Gryffindor? What does he mean..." she trailed off, only to jump up seconds later, giving Draco an awful fright. He had been watching her concentrate on the parchment, waiting for her to tell him what she had figured out.

It took her a while of rummaging in her beaded bag, but eventually she pulled out a silver handle encrusted with rubies, and Draco's mouth fell open as the blade of Gryffindor's sword followed.

"Holy shit, Granger," he exclaimed. "Is that what I think it is?!"

Hermione smiled a little smugly. She was a little annoyed at how unprepared Draco seemed to think they were, but she hoped that Voldemort and the Death Eaters assumed the same, and enjoyed wiping the smirk continuously off Draco's face.

"Yes," she grinned. "The blade has Basilisk venom in it, from Second Year. It's -"

"Goblin-made, I know. I'm a Pureblood, Granger. I know all about expensive magical objects." Ignoring the look on her face, he continued. "But how the fuck did you get that? It's supposed to be in a vault -"

He stopped short. Was he supposed to say that? He felt a bit like a traitor, betraying the secrets he had been told (well, mostly overheard), but he had to remember that he was on the other side now. It felt horrible for him to make this realisation, thinking back to when he used to taunt the Gryffindors about House Points and vowed never to take their side.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. He knew something she didn't. Something important.

"In a vault where?" she demanded. "At Gringotts? Because this is the real one. There are fakes..."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, and Hermione tried not to think about how much nicer it looked when ruffled than when he used to slick it back.

"It must be a fake," he said, more to himself than Hermione. "There is a fuckload of important stuff that You-Know-Who made the Lestranges put into their vault, and I'm one hundred percent sure there is some version of the Gryffindor sword in there. He thinks it's real. But if that one is..."

"Important stuff?" Hermione repeated. "What kind of important stuff?"

Draco waved a hand airily. "Oh, just expensive things. Tiaras, gems, swords, cups, armor..."

He trailed off. She got the gist.

"Well there's nothing we can do," she sighed, flopping down onto the bed and trying to tune in the radio again. "We can't get the sword to them, so we'll have to wait until we all meet up again to destroy it. Maybe we'll give you the honour," she added dryly. She began muttering Order names under her breath, trying to guess the Potterwatch password.

Draco looked alarmed. He didn't want to go near those things. He'd had enough of the Dark Lord's current soul thank you very much.

"... _break-in at Gringotts_..."

"What?" they both shouted at the same time, spinning around to look at each other.

"Turn it up!" Draco demanded, sitting next to Hermione.

"... _thought to be none other than our own Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, apparently with the help of a rogue goblin who they came across when in disguise in a Wizarding area. Hermione Granger seems to have been separated from the pair, but nothing appears to have happened to her. No word yet on what the duo stole or from whom, but word is they escaped on a dragon. Badass!_"

Hermione laughed. "That's Fred!" she grinned at Draco.

Draco was astounded. Potter and Weasley had broken into Gringotts and made it out alive? They were cleverer than he gave them credit for. He was impressed.

"_Breaking news_," came another voice Hermione recognised as Lee Jordan. "_A source of mine working at Gringotts has just confirmed the stolen goods - a golden cup. Doesn't seem like much of a haul to me, boys! Let's hope it's something useful._"

Hermione sighed and flopped back onto the bed, her head hanging off the other edge.

"I can't believe they managed that without me," she said, a little forlorn at not being involved in their adventures. "Not that I mean they need me to tell them everything!" she amended quickly, realising how it sounded.

"But they do, Granger," Draco smiled ruefully, laying back too so they were adjacent to one another. "You know everything."

"Not everything," she blushed. "Just a lot of things."

They lay in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione was feeling left out. She was normally the brains of all their adventures, making sure they planned it in extrenuous detail before Harry just rushed right in. Now they were going off on them without her. A pang of longing settled in her middle.

"Shit!" Draco shouted suddenly, shooting upright. He looked down at Hermione with crazy eyes, and she clutched her chest in alarm.

"What?" she panicked.

"They broke into Gringotts, Granger!" he said, rubbing his pale cheek with his hand.

Hermione wasn't following. "Yes, I'm aware of that..."

"What were we just talking about before you turned that wireless on?"

He was staring at her intensely now. She was sure there was something she was supposed to be realising, but the close proximity to his gaze was throwing her off balance. His silvery eyes bored into hers, willing her to make the connection.

The Lestrange vault at Gringotts. There was "_a fuckload of important stuff_"in that vault that Voldemort himself had placed in there. What kind of important stuff? "_Just expensive things. Tiaras, gems, swords, cups, armor..._"

"The cup!" Hermione shouted, sitting up too. "They stole the cup! That's number four!"

Draco was thankful she'd gotten the message. Sometimes he wondered how she could be so slow. But he could see sitting up so quickly had not done her so good. She was looking resolutely green again.

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. The sudden motion had tilted her stomach upside down and all the way around, or so it felt. Dashing away before Malfoy could see, she ran into the bathroom to be sick again.

**Sorry it's been a while.. the asshole that used to be my boyfriend decided to break my heart. His loss, I guess.**


End file.
